


The King Who Knelt

by Cheeseydare



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon Targaryen - Freeform, Dragons, The Conqueror - Freeform, The King Who Knelt, Torrhen Does His Best to Impart Wisdom on Aegon, Torrhen Stark - Freeform, Valyrian Steel Appreciation, direwolf, mentions of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 11:10:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20759390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheeseydare/pseuds/Cheeseydare
Summary: A look at the day the King of Winter knelt to the Blood of Old Valyria.





	The King Who Knelt

**Author's Note:**

> ASoIaF/GoT is one of my all time favorite fandoms. The world and lore is just so expansive that there's always a story to be told within it. This is just my attempt at dissecting Torrhen Stark's thoughts on the day he gave up his kingdom to save his people.

_They certainly made for an impressive sight, _Torrhen Stark thought. Seated on his horse across from the Targaryen host which out-numbered his own, the King in the North thought that with a well-executed strategy and relentless fighting, he could probably lead his men to a victory. It would be bloody and long, but it was far from impossible.

Then he looked upon the three beasts gathered behind the young conquerors and any doubt about his course of action was erased. Heavy was the head which wore the crown, and his had never felt more like a burden than in that moment. He gave a deep sigh before dismounting, waiting for his small band of men to do the same before beginning the short walk down to the middle ground selected as the meeting place. He felt Shade, his large direwolf companion of nearly two decades prowl to his side, hackles raised at the sight of the dragons. Torrhen wasn’t sure if it was the actual beasts his direwolf didn’t trust, or the man and women he was about to treat with.

Torrhen was not a young man, and he understood the importance of appearances and intimidation at times like these. It was for that reason he had chosen to wear a bear skin cloak, adding additional size to his already impressive frame. His armor was polished to a shine, and _Ice _was sheathed at his hip. His family’s sword was a sight to behold in most instances, and he knew that even in his four and fiftieth year, the sight of him wielding it was still impressive. His golden crown ringed with sharpened points, with its distinctive direwolf head in the center, rested upon his long and shaggy black hair. It was still the early days of winter, so his bushy beard was fairly well kempt.

All of that paled in comparison to the dragons resting less than a hundred feet away. Even without them, Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya made for a striking trio in their own well-made armor. Aegon’s crown of Valyrian steel and rubies glinted in the early morning light, and the pommel of his own long sword featured another finely cut ruby.

Torrhen stopped when he was about ten feet away, his off-hand coming to rest on Shade’s head. “King Aegon,” he greeted, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

“King Torrhen,” Aegon replied, with a respectful dip of his chin. Torrhen appreciated the gesture for what it was, respect for his age rather than current martial strength.

Shade began growling and snarling at the other man who quickly focused his attention on the direwolf. Torrhen turned and bent slightly to lay his face in the wolf’s head, using their connection to calm his friend. The growling began to quiet down, until Shade gave a long whine. Torrhen understood as if he had spoken; why aren’t we fighting this clear threat? Convincing the wolf to sit and not antagonize their opponents took some more time, but eventually he rested on his haunches.

Slowly, so as to prevent misunderstandings, Torrhen reached for his sword belt and undid it. He half turned and held it towards one of the younger men with him, who came forward after a moment’s hesitation. Aegon raised an inquisitive brow and watched him for a few moments before mimicking the gesture. One of his wives came forward to gather his belt, but didn’t leave his side immediately.

“I would like for us to walk and talk, one king to another,” Torrhen requested. The woman at his side immediately objected, arguing that he either bent the knee or the battle would start shortly. Aegon hadn’t stopped staring at Torrhen, eyes slightly narrowed in focus. The Targaryen king lifted his hand for silence. “I swear on my life and honor, I’ve no other weapons or plots to harm you. It would be a fool’s work to try, for it would condemn my men to burn. Maybe in my younger days my bare hands would have been considered weapons, but unfortunately old age is an enemy I can’t fight.”

Aegon considered that for a moment with a small grin before speaking. “It is alright, Visenya. I’ll hear what he has to say.” His wife looked less than thrilled but backed off to stand with her sister. Torrhen gently scratched behind Shade’s ear before bidding the wolf to stay as he stepped towards the young king and turned so they could walk along the riverbank. The Stark king towered over the Valyrian conqueror, making the dragonrider tilt his head back slightly to meet the other man’s eyes.

“I apologize for Shade’s behavior. He is very protective of me and mine, but he’s also overconfident. He believes we should fight all threats, at all times,” Torrhen started, a wry chuckle coming at the end.

Aegon turned an inquisitive eye towards the taller man. “You’ve a connection with the wolf?”

“It’s a direwolf, but, yes. It comes from the blood of the First Men in the North.”

“I have a connection with Balerion. I would be interested in knowing how they differ. Maybe at a later time?” Aegon replied. Torrhen nodded his agreement, allowing a calm silence to descend between the pair.

The silence was broken first by Torrhen. “Do you know why I wear this crown? Why generations of my ancestors have been titled the Kings and Queens of Winter?”

“I’m afraid my knowledge of the history of Westeros is incomplete,” Aegon replied, turning a curious eye to the older man.

“Because when the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives,” the King of Winter murmured, almost akin to a prayer. “We live a hard and rugged life in the North. Surviving is difficult enough, but to do it alone? As sure a death sentence as if I swung my sword. My people learned a long time ago that survival means helping each other, supporting others when they need so they can support you later.”

The younger king stayed silent as the pair stopped about thirty feet away from each of their respective delegations. Torrhen clasped his hands behind his back and observed the other man. His posture was perfect, upright but not arrogant. He gave off an air of certainty, and likely could have commanded men well without the threat of dragons to reinforce his word.

“Do you have children, King Aegon?”

“No, not yet. We thought to wait until some stability has been established. My wives are needed to ride, and I’d not risk the babe,” Aegon replied, seeming confused at the non sequitur. “I’m not sure what that has to do with our current situation.”

Torrhen continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “One of my most loyal bannermen, and a good friend, Gerran Umber has seven children. The poor fool. His second son lived at Winterfell for a number of years in his youth. Gerran and his three sons marched with me. I’ve two boys myself. I can still remember the first time I held them, and now they’re men grown with families of their own to care for. They stand in the ranks behind me. The Karstarks are kin, however distant the relation is now. Nearly three thousand of their men answered my call.”

The Stark king sighed deeply and looked out across the lands around the flowing river. Aegon had little idea of where his counterpart was leading to, but was content to let him talk. Unlike the other petty rulers he had conquered, Stark seemed to be weighing the situation and not listening to his pride.

“I’ve thirty thousand men with me and more back north who’ve placed their trust in me to make the right decision. To make the right decision for them, for their families, for the North. They trust me as they’ve trusted my family for generations because Starks have proven themselves worthy of it time and again. I only hope that the decision I make here today proves to be the right one,” Torrhen told the younger man.

“So you’ll bend the knee?” Aegon asked. The older king’s posture and tone betrayed his intentions even if the words hadn’t been said.

Torrhen turned and looked into the purple eyes of the other king. “Aye, I’ll bend the knee. I’ll bend the knee because my pride isn’t worth their lives. I’ll bend the knee in the hope that living under your reign will be better than fighting to keep our freedom. I’ll bend the knee so husbands can go back to wives, and sons can go back to their parents. I’ll bend the knee and my men will be angry and history will likely call me craven, but I’d rather they be alive to do so.”

Aegon kept the eye contact. “Let them talk of what you gave up, but we will both remember what you saved here today. I take no pleasure in killing, truly. It is a necessary and dirty thing to bind these disparate regions into a single kingdom. It may sound conceited, but I genuinely believe my people will be better off together than apart and that I can achieve some good for the people.”

Torrhen hummed in agreement. “I’d ask one thing of you, though.”

Aegon arched his eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Allow me to submit a symbolic sword after I have given up my crown. The sword I carry today is a family heirloom passed down for generations. It’s Valyrian steel and I’m sure I needn’t remind you how hard they are to acquire now.”

“Truly?” Aegon asked, stunned that such a blade was in the North. “Does the blade have a name?”

_“Ice,” _Torrhen answered, drawing a genuine laugh from Aegon.

“Even your priceless artifacts are without frills,” he chuckled, the two men smiling.

“Simplicity isn’t a horrible thing. Oftentimes, I find it to be the best course of action when faced with a challenge,” Torrhen stated. The pair began walking towards where they had started the negotiations.

“Would you mind terribly letting me see the blade? We’ve two of our own, but they are so rare than any chance to gaze upon one should be taken advantage of,” Aegon requested.

Torrhen signaled to the young man with his sword belt to come forward. He held the sheath and slowly pulled the blade free. Rhaenys and Visenya both made motions to come forward in protest, but Aegon raised his hand for calm. He reverently ran his hand along the blade. “You’ve taken good care of it, King Torrhen.”

“My father taught me how to keep a blade, and his father taught him. It’s a lesson I’ve passed onto my boys who will pass it onto their sons. Never mistreat that upon which your life may rest,” the elder king answered, as he re-sheathed the blade. The young northern warrior took the belt and moved back to rejoin his party. Torrhen took a quick glance over his shoulder at the men awaiting his decision, and sighed deeply when he turned to face his soon to be King and Queens. “I’ve never done this before so you’ll excuse if my words and actions aren’t quite proper ceremony, I hope.”

Aegon waved him off. “This has been a learning experience for all involved I believe.”

The King of Winter gracefully bent his right knee to touch the ground. He carefully removed his crown, that which was worn by his ancestors for thousands of years. Unbidden, a memory of his father explaining what it meant to be king appeared in his mind. “There is no more sacred a duty than to care for others who have given you their trust,” he murmured, gently pressing his lips to the direwolf in the center of his former crown. “I, Torrhen of House Stark, hereby renounce my kingdom in the North, and swear myself and my House in perpetuity to the House Targaryen. I pledge to provide council when asked, aid when called upon, and a place at my hearth always. I do this on my honor, and through the offering of my crown.”

Torrhen lifted the golden crown with both hands as a tear slipped free and tracked its way down his cheek and into his beard. Aegon took the crown with the gentleness one would accord a newborn babe in his effort to display the respect he had for the man knelt before him.

“I, Aegon of the House Targaryen, accept your fealty. I pledge to honor your trust by providing council when asked, aid when called upon, and a place at my hearth always. I bid you rise, Torrhen Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I pray ours is a long and prosperous union,” Aegon replied, offering his hand to the larger man and helping lever him to his feet.

“I pray so as well, Your Grace,” Torrhen replied, bowing his head to his King and Queen.


End file.
